CHAPTER IX
TWO MEN OF SPIRIT
"The fact is," observed Lord Thrapston complacently, "the girl verymuch resembles me in disposition."
Calder's eyes grew larger and rounder.
"Do you really think so?" he asked anxiously.
"Well, this little lark of hers--hang me, it's just what I should haveenjoyed doing fifty years ago."
"Ah--er--Lord--Thrapston, have you noticed the resemblance you speak ofin any other way?"
"That girl, except that she is a girl, is myself over again--myselfover again."
"The deuce!"
"I beg your pardon, Calder; I grow hard of hearing."
"Nothing. Lord Thrapston. Look here, Lord Thrapston----"
"Well, well, my dear boy?"
"Oh, nothing; that is--"
"But she'll be all right in your hands, my boy. You must keep an eye;on her, don't you know: she'll need a bit o' driving; but I reallydon't see why you should come to grief. I don't, 'pon my soul. No.With tact on your part, you might very well pull through."
"How d'ye mean tact, Lord Thrapston?"
"Oh, amuse her. Let her travel; give her lots of society; don't botherher with domestic affairs. Don't let her feel she's under anyobligation. That's what she kicks against. So do I; always did."
Calder pulled his mustache. Lord Thrapston had briefly sketched theexact opposite of his ideal of married life.
"The fact is," continued the old man, "the boy's an uncommon handsomeboy. She can't resist that. No more can I; never could."
There chanced to be a mirror opposite Calder, and he impartiallyconsidered himself. There was, he concluded, every prospect of MissGlyn resisting any engrossing passion for him.
"It's very good of you to have told, me all about it," he remarked,rising. "I'll think it over."
"Yes, do. Of course, I admit she's given you a perfectly good reasonfor breaking off your engagement if you like. Mind that. We don't feelaggrieved, Calder. Act as you think best. We admit we're in the wrong,but we must stand by what we've done."
"I shouldn't like to give her any pain--"
"Pain! Oh, dear me, no, my dear boy. She won't fret. Make your mindeasy about that."
Calder felt a sudden impulse to disclose to Lord Thrapston his secretopinion of him, and he recollected, with a pang, that in the course ofso doing he would have to touch on more than one characteristic sharedby the old man and Agatha. Where were his visions of a quiet home inthe country, of freedom from the irksome duties of society, of anobedient and devoted wife, surrounded by children and flanked byjampots? He had once painted this picture for Agatha, shortly after shehad agreed to that arrangement which she declined to call a promise ofmarriage; and it occurred to him now that she had allowed the subjectto drop without any expression of concurrence. He took leave of LordThrapston and went for a solitary walk. He wanted to think. But theposition of affairs was such that other persons also felt the need ofreflection, and Calder had not been walking by the Row very longbefore, lifting his eyes, he saw a young man approaching. The young manwas not attired as he ought to have been: he wore a light suit, adissolute necktie, and a soft wideawake crammed down low on his head.He had obviously forsworn the vanities of the world and was wearing thewillow. He came up to Calder and held out his hand.
"Wentworth," he said, "I left you rudely the other day. I was doing youan injustice. I have heard the truth from Mrs. Blunt. You are free fromall blame. We--we are fellow-sufferers."
His tones were so mournful that Calder shook his hand with warmsympathy, and remarked, "Pretty rough, on us both, ain't it?"
"For me," declared Charlie, "everything is over. My trust in woman isdestroyed; my pleasure in life is--"
"Well, I don't feel A1 myself, old chap," said Calder.
"I have written to--to her, to say good-by."
"No, have yon, though?"
"What else could I do? Wentworth, do you suppose that, even if she wasfree, I would think of her for another moment? Can there be love wherethere is no esteem, no trust, no confidence?"
"I was just thinking that when you came up," said Calder.
"No, at whatever cost, I--every self-respecting man--must considerfirst of all what he owes to his name, to his family, tohis--Wentworth, to his unborn children."
Calder nodded.
"You, of course," pursued Charlie, "will be guided by your ownjudgment. As to that, the circumstances seal my lips."
"I don't like it, you know," said Calder.
"As regards you, she may or may not have excuses. I don't know; but shewilfully and grossly deceived me. I have done with her."
"Gad, I believe you're right, Merceron, old chap! A chap ought to standup for himself, by Jove! You'd never feel safe with her, would you, byJove?"
"Good-by," said Charlie suddenly. "I leave Paddington by the 4.15."
"Where are you off to?"
"Hell--I mean home," answered Charlie.
Calder beat his stick against his leg.
"I can't stay here either," he said moodily.
Charlie stretched out his hand again.
"Come with me," said he.
"Eh? what?"
"Come with me; we'll forget her together."
Calder looked at him.
"Well, you are a good chap. Dashed if I don't. Yes, I will. We'll enjoyourselves like thunder. But I say, Merceron, I--I ought to write toher, oughtn't I?"
"I am just going to write myself."
"To--to say good-by, eh?"
"Yes."
"I shall write and break it off."
"Come along. We'll go to your rooms and got the thing done, and thencatch the train. My luggage is at the station now."
"It won't take me a minute to get mine."
"Wentworth, I'm glad to be rid of her."
"All--oh, well--so am I," said Calder.
Late that evening the butler presented Miss Agatha Glyn with twoletters on a salver. As her eye fell on the addresses, she started.Her heart began to beat. She sat and looked at the two momentousmissives.
"Now which," she thought, "shall I read first? And what shall I do, ifthey are both obstinate?"
There was another contingency which Miss Glyn did not contemplate.
After a long hesitation, she took up Charlie's letter, and opened it.It was very short, and began abruptly without any words of address:
"I have received your letter. Your excuses make it worse. I couldforgive everything except deceit. I leave London to-day. Good-by.--C.M."
"Deceit!" cried Agatha. "How dare he? What a horrid boy!"
She was walking up and down the room in a state of great indignation.She had never been talked to like that in her life before. It wasungentlemanly, cruel, brutal. She flung Charlie's letter angrily downon the table.
"I am sure poor dear old Calder won't treat me like that!" sheexclaimed, taking up his letter.
It ran thus: "My dear Agatha:--I hope you will believe that I writethis without any feeling of anger towards you. My regard for youremains very great, and I hope we shall always be very good friends;but, after long and careful consideration, I have come to theconclusion that the story Lord Thrapston told, me shows conclusivelywhat I have been fearing for some time past--namely, that I have notbeen so lucky as to win a real affection from you, and that we are notlikely to make one another happy. Therefore, thanking you very much foryour kindness in the past, I think I had better restore your liberty toyou. I shall hear with, very great pleasure of your happiness. I leavetown to day for a little while, in order that you may not be exposed tothe awkwardness of meeting me.
"Always your most sincerely,
"Calder Wentworth."
Agatha passed her hand across her brow; then she reread Calder'sletter, and then Charlie's. Yes, there, was not the least doubt aboutit! Both of the gentlemen had well, what they had done did not admit ofbeing put into tolerable words. With a little shriek, Agatha flungherself on the sofa.
The door opened and Lord Thrapst
on entered.
"Well, Aggy, what's the news? Still bothered by your two young men?Hullo! what's wrong?"
"Read them!" cried Agatha, with a gesture towards the table.
"Eh? Head what? Oh, I see."
He sat down at the table and put on his glasses. Agatha turned her facetowards the wall; for her also everything was over. For a time no soundwas audible save an occasional crackle of the note-paper in LordThrapston's shaking fingers. Then, to Agatha's indescribableindignation, there came another sort of crackle--a dry, grating,derisive chuckle--from that flinty-hearted old man, her grandfather.
"Good, monstrous good, 'pon my life!" said he.
"You're laughing at me!" she cried, leaping up.
"Well, my dear, I'm afraid I am."
"Oh, how cruel men are!"
"H'm! They're both men of spirit evidently."
"Calder I can just understand. I--perhaps I did treat Calder ratherbadly---"
"Oh, you go so far as to admit that, do you, Aggy?"
"But Charlie! Oh, to think that Charlie should treat me like that!" andshe threw herself on the sofa again.
Lord Thrapston sat quite still. Presently Agatha rose, came to thetable, and took up her two letters. She looked at them both; and theold man, seeming to notice nothing, yet kept his eye on her.
"I shall destroy these things," said she; and she tore Calder's letterinto tiny fragments, and flung them on the fire. Charlie's she crumpledup and held in her hand.
"Good-night, grandpapa," she said wearily, and kissed him.
"Good-night, my dear," he answered.
And, whatever she did when she went upstairs, Lord Thrapston was in aposition to swear that Charlie's letter was not destroyed in thedrawing-room.